Sundae Blues
by The Timid Thief
Summary: The tale of how one comes to be a dangerous, mute, cocky sadist with the powers to disappear at any point. The suspected origin story to RWBY's biggest enigma, and a tale of tragedy.
1. Chapter 1

She couldn't tell if it was an accomplishment or a travesty that rumours were already being spread about her.

She had only taken three steps into Haven and she was already hearing the ambient chatter of the student, the socialite buzz that drowned out all rational thought and replaced it with casual conversation. While normally she didn't find it so bad, today it was insufferable. Mainly because of the subject matter. Her.

The girl didn't think of herself as famous, but some of her classmates from combat academy were here and their loose lips would tell a tale, and that sound would travel in the air to the ears of another, and this would continue the chain of gossip. Or perhaps someone's eyes would miraculously turn, observe the diminutive stature of the girl, her attire and weapon choice, and comment on that. There were many options.

The girl twirled her umbrella idly, as she kept her mind on the prime directive. Moving forwards. Slow footsteps that graced the cobblestone, posture high. Lady like, proper, plus it added a few inches which she desperately needed. It was not good for her eye to be nipple level, that simply wasn't proper.

She walked slowly, eyes turning side to side.

What's with the umbrella? Is that her weapon?

Yes it was, and while she would love to give a live demonstration, that simply wouldn't do. She would simply twirl it again, pretending she couldn't hear it. She had a place to be. So the answer was yes, the umbrella was her weapon. It was never a bad idea to blend some fashion into weaponry, plus it had never let her down before.

I heard she went psycho on her combat exam.

That one brought a sneer and a cringe to the features of the young woman. That one was...true. To an extent. Though she did say it was justified as it was the final test of literally everything she had ever learned, and her once chance to get into a very prestigious academy. Her life was in danger to say the least. Though it was ruled that perhaps kicking her opponent three times in the ribcage while they were done was perhaps an excessive and brutal show of force. Regardless, her skill was considered adequate to be accepted.

I heard she's not even really mute.

That one didn't even deserve the time and dignity for a mental retort, even if it was just for a comment that would never leave her lips. That one she would simply brush off like a speck of dirt, a waste of time and breathe from the speaker.

What she did spend her time on was a brief but vivid fantasy of turning around in a confident stride, and in one sophisticated motion, bringing her hand and slapping the gossiper across the face in punishment for her actions. A tranquil woman with often violent fantasies, to say the least. Despite the cathartic satisfaction it would bring, it would not help her fledgling reputation. While she had the goal of being a huntswoman, it would also be quite nice to establish a...sense of restraint. While she was trying to exercise that now in her simple walk, she needed to know how to keep her battles short, efficient and graceful. Not bloody and messy, on top of some of the moral arguments, it was inefficient and...well a bitch to clean blood stains out of her umbrella.

She sighed, looking up to the buildings of Mistral. It was a brilliant morning, with a shining sun that created quite the sight as it hit the white marble of the academy of Haven. She felt a pang of hope inside her, that renewed her spirit. That is what she needed, she grinned on her features, twirling her umbrella as she closed it slowly, turning and entering the academy for real now. Nothing could stop her now.

LATER

Grimm Ecology. It was a class with a formal name, but it was a rather simple idea at that. Literally just the art of understanding and learning the prey that would be hunting her down for the rest of her life. It was necessary to the art of being a huntswoman. To complete it, there was room for stories. Anecdotes, legends, and experiences that would bring about interest in any recruit. So what was not to love about a class that guaranteed future survival?

Literally everything about it, from the beginning. First it was a cramped room, with very few windows. In humid Mistral country, it made the room sweaty and uncomfortable. It made every single moment one of agony, as thighs ground together in a state of red, bloated uncomfortableness. So on top of that, it didn't help it was dense with students. It was necessary to get students educated about their prey, and there was a crippling lack of space for their numbers. So packed classrooms only helped amplify the heat of it all. It was dark outside, more humid than ever.

Then there was a teacher. While his subject matter was not boring, or winded, it was the smallest possible detail that annoyed her. It was his lisp, perhaps it was massive in the man's childhood, it had lost it's significance. But it was still present, like a boil on the ball of the foot it was still THERE. She found herself cringing anytime he had to say any word with more than one S. He was also diminutive in stature, and shook sometimes in his stories, a quirk perhaps brought on by the growing humidity.

On top of that was the fact th-

Hmmm?

A small eyebrow perked in quiet question, turning her body properly as she faced one of her classmates. It was a burly man, hairy with dark curly hair. He offered her a shrug, and said nothing else than handing her a folded slip of paper. Her name was written on it, in a frantic and quick handwriting. It was not almost as if there was no consideration into the note making, but she found herself curious regardless.

She looked to see the professor, his back was turned so she opened the note. It was almost...ravenous. Like it was the booty that some naval privateer spent every waking moment in an attempt to find. It was not often she got notes passed to her. The paper opened slowly, and her eyes looked upon the writing on the paper.

She slowly squinted as she read. The writing was small, chicken scratch but legible. She deciphered the notes in seconds, looking at it strangely.

"You look two steps away from some beauty sleep."

She looked forwards to see the professor with his back still turned. Looking down at the paper, she drew her writing utensil and with great care, wrote her message back. The calligraphy was down right near perfect, with each loop symmetrical, and the message looking rather professional.

"Our professor is a trained professional and I am simply listening to his enticing stories."

She turned around to the burly man behind her and handed him the wad of paper, listening to him grumble something as he passed it to another student, then to another. While the girl hoped she could simply trace the pathway of the note down the class to her correspondent, the voice of the professor drove her attention back to the front of the class. She would not see whoever was trying to get her attention, but in five minutes, and after a brief lecture about how useful shots at the legs of Ursa grim were, she felt a familiar finger poking her back, and another piece of folded paper.

"I am sure that was a joke so you'll have to excuse if I'm not laughing, on account of our teacher. I hear that you're a psychopathic actor, pretending to be a mute, with an umbrella concealing a sword and an elephant rifle, who is not a virgin and also has a pair of shitty shoes."

Her eyes scanned over the comments, these preposterous rumors were really starting to get annoying as they slowly turned from idle chatter into besmirching evidence people were using against her. Her skin turned from her fair porcelain into a fair shade of red as she wrote roughly on the paper, even tearing slightly as she hastily constructed a proper response that the note maker surely deserved.

"I don't know who told you such slander, but I can guarantee to you that all of that is false. Except for the umbrella, while I do have one, it certainly does not hide a rifle. And as for the insults against my character, I hope that you have the strength of personality to simply forget any of those lies."

The burly man let out an audible sigh as he moved it down the line again. The girl turned to observe the professor, worried that she would get in trouble if she continued focusing on other endeavors. A note soon made it's way back to her.. This time it was a fresh sheet of paper, titled with umbrella girl right across it.

She unfolded it again.

"Don't worry about it."

Was all it stated.

The rest of the class was rather silent as it seemed no more notes were ever passed to her, and the class could rest and continue their task of listening to the professor, instead of having to devote time and effort to passing little slips of paper down an almost assembly line. It would be nothing of interest. Her mind slowly wondered who in the class would send her notes, nobody looked at her during the class, no secret admirers or curious outcasts.

When the class would end her question would slowly be answered. The fair majority of students would flood out of the classroom, taking their belongings and leaving in a quick blur, like lava erupting from a volcano or blood from a spewing wound. She would grab the umbrella, and her belongings and wait for the herd to leave, before she slowly went up the staircase. Her footsteps echoed in the near empty classroom, the professor organizing notes for his next class of students. As she turned back to look at him, she'd find herself colliding with someone, stepping backwards slightly, steadying herself on the stair below her as her eyes hurriedly looked to what was in front of her. It was not a wall to say the least.

A student, taller than her but average height in general. He had grey hair, medium length, messy all over. His face was pale, with dark rings of wrinkles that hid misty blue eyes that were wide and expressive. He looked at her with a small smile in the corner of his mouth. He wore the school uniform, of uniform black and gray. However something curious made him stand out, tied around his waist was a more casual jacket. It was of red, brown, and grey squares and lines, a plaid jacket he wore when he was allowed to take off this tight uniform.

"You know I've heard many stories, but I've never heard so many stories about a student that has said so little." He explained, smiling as he looked at her, now moving out of the way as he turned and began to walk up the staircase. "You have certainly garnered my interest." He commented.

He walked out of the classroom as the sound of rain pounding against the roof drowned out the sound of breathing and footsteps as he looked at her, smiling. "An umbrella hey? That must be quite nice for these Mistral showers, eh?" He asked her, speaking lightly. His voice was certainly not deep, but rough, average but scratchy. He did not seem nearly as refined as the majority of students, but he was making pleasant conversation at least.

"I assume you're next class is sparring class which is alllll theeee waaaay across campus, correct?"

The girl nodded as the man slowly smiled, they would leave out the classroom. A few dark and narrow hallways, and a pair of doors that lead outside, large windows that showed the surroundings of the campus and green campus. The rain was visible as it pounded against the campus, the stone walkways stained and shining with the liquid layer.

She felt almost excited as she held her umbrella, slowly opening it before they stepped outside before he stopped her, one hand on her arm and the other frantically waving.

"Hey, it's bad luck to open that indoors."


	2. Chapter 2

The library. The room came across as quite cool, mainly because a few windows were opened to allow cool air to filter in from the rainy outside. It had been a week since the girl's inception into Haven academy, and she was finding it...well… rather lovely to be honest. Perhaps it was because of the good friendship she had made, or that the rumours slowly faded as stress about sparring and incoming partnerships took hold in everyone's mind.

The room was mostly brown, with wooden interior and piles of old books. Sometimes mold was spotted in the library, but for such a humid environment, it was kept rather perfectly. It was almost like a scientist had identified everything that would chance the room and eliminated it, perhaps they had done that. Regardless, the books were well kept even if it still smelt like constant sweat.

The girl was currently sitting in a simple wooden chair, back straight and hands in her lips, speaking to her good friend Argyle. It had been a week since she had met him, and they talked often… He talked often to her, and she listened. And every now and then when she could she would make a sophisticated note to explain all of her thoughts towards his speech.

Argyle was sitting, leaning back far in the chair, with one feet on the table, his arms at both sides of the chair and dangling back and forth like pendulums. Argyle chewed the inside of his cheek for a few moments before he began speaking again.

"So in closing the author was suggesting that Atlas was in fact funding all the attacks by the White Fang, giving them all the funds and weapons they've ever needed, and in return the White Fang continue raiding, pillaging and rioting. Then Atlas use the public's fear, and offer them a state of security. Now while every citizen, regardless of continent, desires security, Atlas make a small fortune selling their guns and weapons… It is as good read but I am surprised that the author managed to get this published, but I think if he suddenly disappeared, Atlas would realize their plot would be too obvious. So be allowing him to continue acting like some crazed doomsayer, the public slowly start to reject even the mere suggestion that Atlas could be up to more than they let on."

The woman slowly looked up from the table to eye her companion in the face. His wrinkles only increased, it was a long night reading she hypothesized. He met her eyes slowly, a small smile creeping on his face as he sat the chair forward again, running a hair through his ashy hair, turning to look at her and smiling.

"I guess I'm rambling a bit too much… I suppose I've taken it a bit for granted considering you can't really interrupt me."

The woman placed a hand to her lips silently, indicating that there should have been the presence of a laugh in the silence that instead emanated from her. The young man was a charmer, perhaps in not the most correct use of that word, but she did find his presence quite enjoyable. It did however become quite clear why the young man clung to her, he was an outcast. Perhaps not by physical features, but his thoughts were too strange, and he was too much of a worry. His eyes constantly scanned around for observers and eavesdroppers, and his stance always looked ready to bolt at some great sound. Slightly slanted, hunched. While she never would voice these crazy thoughts, she did find them...well at least worth her time at the very least.

She grabbed a nearby notepad, she always had to carry one if she wanted to maintain conversation with Argyle. She scrawled her notes slowly, her penmanship improved, there wasn't much room for it to but it indeed did, thanks to the rather frequent practice she had.

"Don't worry about it, your stories are odd but interesting."

He read the paper, a goofy grin on his features as he passed the notepad back to her, smiling as he leaned back. There wasn't much readings to be done for any of his classes, most eased back. Student stress was high enough, trials were beginning, and this would not only decide who was on each team, it would determine each student's partner. The person that would watch their back for the rest of their career.

She returned to writing, the thoughts were now in her head. The initial reason for their library vacation was to take all those thoughts out of their head, but the pressure was back. Cold sweats, constant worrying, all the constants that came with the title of students.

"Argyle," With a fancy A that contained at least one necessary loop. "Are you not worried about these trials? I do not wish to flatter you, but I must admit, I would feel much more comfortable if you were my partner, as compared to several of our classmates."

He read the paper, which only increased his dumb and goofy smirk.

"Is it a big day? Probably. Am I worried? Naaaaaah." He explained, leaning back confidently again. There was a hint of a cocky swagger in him, but it was a question whether it was genuine, or a false bravado maintained for appearance sake.

"Sure we'll get partners, but I am sure it will be me and you." She didn't wish to correct him that it would be you and I. "Trust me on this one, there will be very little chance that we won't be. I got a plan."

The confidence in his statement was completely surprising. The hints of confidence only grew until he was filling this entire library with bold statements. She did however find that such overwhelming confidence was...reassuring. She leaned forward and nodded towards him, eye contact slowly maintained. She would trust him, she wasn't sure how he would do it, but she was sure their bond would be somehow maintained.

"Though it does bring up something I've been mulling over lately… I was thinking instead of be rambling constantly, and you simply noting we could...well… I was thinking that we, mutually, could perhaps, maybe, if you are willing of course, learn sign language."

Her eyebrow raised at such a strange proposition. Before she could coolly reply that she was mute, not deaf, she would find his hand blocking her from grabbing the pen as he looked at her with this strange grin, filled with determination and fascination.

"I know you don't need it, but not only will there be a lack paper and pencils for us to keep our usual means of communication… I think it would be quite compelling if we chatted on...well..."  
An ominous and mysterious silence filled the library for a few moments, as some soft murmuring filled the air with at least the remnants of noise, as his mind raced to find the perfect phrasing for his point, something so eloquent that she could hardly refute him.

"Equal ground."

It was a wish, a sincere one, for them to be able to chat equally to each other. For him to stop his constant ramblings and hear her thoughts, and her story. Despite their closeness, the girl did not talk much about herself to Argyle, it was impolite for a lady to speak of herself. It was more polite instead to lend an ear to anyone who wished to speak, to hear them out, and only speak once their point was well established. That was what a lady did.

However, the proposition was intriguing. It would be nice to not have to write down all her thoughts, and to have someone that could understand her quickly at any time, and would voice her opinions. It seemed so lovely and nice, to be holding sophisticated conversations like...like she was normal, not in the perfect sense of the word but in some relative sense, compared to now.

She turned to him and slowly pulled the paper towards her, his grip had since relinquished with time as her eyes silently scanned him, waiting for some answer or comment to the question he had posed. She looked it over and wrote something short, something sweet. Another goofy grin would ignite across his features as he read what she responded with.

"I think that is a lovely idea Argyle."

He took the paper and gave a resolute nod as his eyes were alight with a quiet fantasy, going through all the logistics necessary to to learn an entirely new language, and in time for the two to be field ready for combat. They would not be fluent in days, not enough for any of their coming trials. But given months, years, they would be. At least that was his plan. Sometimes things don't go according to plan, but Argyle had too many fantasies to let himself think about the possibilities of failure. Failure was inevitable in lie, and he tried never to think about it. He 'tried', it never stopped a flood of dark thoughts and fears, but it helped.

"Plus there's the tactical advantage of being able to soundlessly communicate, especially when possible enemies can't even understand what we are doing. We could do it without the grim even knowing we are there, and we'd never have to worry about breaking the silence, we could talk as much and as furious as we want."

She let out a pleasant sigh as her eye lids softly closed, she too leaned back in the chair. It was perhaps not the most proper thing to do, but it was comfortable to say the least. Argyle wasn't done speaking, but she never stopped listening. She just stopped looking, relaxing as Argyle went on an in depth lecture about how sign language should be a must for every potential huntsman.

She wouldn't mind much of her life maintained this. This constant pace, these constant thoughts, these constant surprises. It seemed lovely at the moment. All in all, she would have a delight today, as her and Argyle spent the rest of their day in the library, their conversation soon switching to something reasonably less serious.

LATER 

The girl sneered as she raised her foot high in the air. Despite how much she wanted to maintain cleanliness, the school had sent her here. Mud, moss, and algae all clung to her legs, disrupting the impeccable appearance she had fought to maintained. No longer sublime, now submerged in a degree of filth. But all the students were her, dropped in to find their future partner and go through a series of trials.

She walked slowly, her umbrella twirled as she threw it up in the air and laid against the shoulder. It would make a massive sign to anyone walking behind her, it would reveal exactly who that was and leave no room for confusion. She was sure that many would simply be repelled by the showing, and that would assure her at least a willing partner. But she trusted Argyle more than anyone, she wanted him more than some desperate pervert or uncaring sloth.

Argyle was like a… She didn't what to classify Argyle as. Their relationship was complex and strange. It didn't bring a fire to her heart or lust to her loins, but it was warming and touching and brought a strange sense of familiarity and comfort whenever he was near.

She continued walking, damp dirt that threatened to turn into treacherous mud soon as she tested the ground. The landscape was filled with fat, but low hanging trees, with the underbrush being rife and verdant with a supply of strange and exotic plants, and the croaking and chirping created an ambiance. Though the smell was that of rotting excrement, and she worried it would cling to her hair and clothes for days.

Before she could sulk any louder a sound break the ambiance, sounding a flock of colourful birds flying away. It was a hail of gunshots, a cacophonous symphony of powder combusting. It brought her attention as she slowly turned to it. Had grims broke loose, was someone in trouble. She moved swiftly, one hand holding her skirt upwards as she hastily walked, peeking through the heavy tree line to see ahead of her.

Oh Argyle.

She was right to put her faith in him. He stood there shooting in the ground like a crazy man, surely some would come to help and some flee, but his eyes were on the ground. It was such a strange sight that it would repulse potential partners, leaving him with only one option.  
She approached slowly and waved her umbrella in his field of vision to gain his attention from his firing spell.


	3. Chapter 3

The library was quickly becoming their meeting ground, where their tracks laid and their scent rested, a table and a few good chairs claimed in their name. Argyle was always the first to be there, after every day of class or any time he had a sizable break, he would work his agile legs and be there first, the flag bearer to the empire of team Carnation. While the partnership of Catherine and Rochelle was often missing, the foundation of the girl and Argyle were always there, willing to chat about whatever strange idea was in either of their heads.

Their hands were getting better, more dexterous and instinctive. Argyle was always ahead of her, it was his pet project after all and he saw a great necessity in the learning of a new language. She did not. She saw it like a gambit, something to attempt and see where it went, where the dice fell. Either weal or woe would follow, and she did not want to commit any more effort than was necessary until the results were clear as day.

Argyle looked good, for once. Perhaps he had a good sleep, he seemed to simply be radiating off that energy he usually kept reserved, and every listener and passerby was forced to at least reverberate elements of his ambient motion. The girl sat pleasantly, sitting back. It was perhaps the most relaxed she had every appeared, the lack of wrinkles on her partner gave her a degree of confidence and carelessness.

Argyle rambled on some subject and she feigned interest, her mind was currently pleasantly reminiscing. The event in question was only two days ago, so perhaps a bit too soon to have her memory clouded by nostalgia, but soon enough that all thoughts were still relevant.

She had sparred with Argyle, and the other members of team CRNA. It was supposed to be a relaxed sparring session, so as not to overstress students after their recent formation of teams, but enough to keep their bodies awake and alert. If they were to go into battle against unstoppable hordes, they would need to know each others fighting styles intimately. Almost more than their own styles.

Like a group of ballerinas, they would all need to know each others strengths and weaknesses. So when one was failing, they could effortlessly compensate. A burden of one was easily carried by three.

Theory regardless, it went quite well… To a degree. While the girl was rather elegant in her combat, with good defensive blocks, parries and evades, combined with smaller jabs and blows designed to slowly wither her opponents down, she was still at a strong disadvantage to everyone else. And for once, it wasn't her lack of sound that was her main handicap, it was her semblance.

The girl had not discovered any sort of semblance yet, and while her aura was strong and could deflect almost anything, she did not have the grace and self awareness to master some sort of semblance. Argyle had his, so their sparring was quite...one sided.

While she fought with her umbrella, using all the grace that she was given, he fought with more...advanced weaponry. Advanced in the sense that they could, in the right time, create an artificial rain of bullets. Gun smoke often lingered at his sides as he would partake in a jarring orchestra. His weapons lied on either side of his hips, in little leather holsters. Revolvers, small in his hands and easy to control, and if he twirled them just right, an axe head would come out, ready to swing. He fought using both consistently, always spinning and shooting, making it hard to predict if he was working to chop you, or blast you. Though of course a few good attacks at his hands would debilitate him, it did make it hard to make any good defense. And if you went on the offense, while his semblance kicked in…

He always seemed to be on step away from you, every strike. At times it was like he faded away like a ghost, some strange specter. In reality, his reflexes were strong, always ready to move or dodge what was coming for them. For an individual who was never really noticed by their peers, one who blended in with the wall paper, it was only fitting that some of his swifter movements went unnoticed.

It was hard for her, all her jabs seemed to be off center or a bit too far. It was hard for her to take him out, though a later match against Rochelle, who preferred a staff, proved that it was quite easy for her to strike him with wider, stronger blows rather than finesse laden jabs.

She felt...jealous. Disappointed. She wished she had her semblance already, it would provide so much utility and strength for their missions. But no, she was still struggling to get anything other than protection from her aura.

"Argyle… Do you think it's possible I don't have a semblance?"

She slowly signed it out, having to write out that last word because her lack of a real sign for it. She bit her lip impatiently, forming a cute pout as she looked at him, wondering if he knew.

He quickly signed out, and she had to interpret quickly. He said something about no, she had to have a semblance. It would come eventually, like a good rainfall to hydrate a crop in a dusty drought. She just had to be patient.

He stopped signing with a sigh as his head looked downwards, at the table itself as she tried to think of something to say. He looked towards her slowly, perplexed. It was often he came to her with any sort of criticism, he was definitely not teacher material, but he did in fact come to bring advice.

"It will take time...and patience. I do think you might benefit from some lessons in patience." He said softly. Her eyes quickly darted to his as he tried to avoid hers, looking away for almost pure survival instinct. "You did go pretty hard in that training match..."

He did not want to say the exact things, but it was clear to both of them what he meant. Against Catherine she had managed to gain advantage against her rifle harpoon, and rather.. ruthlessly beat her with the umbrella. Ribs ached, face bruised. A bit much considering that the girl had gone an extra twenty seconds after Catherine's aura went past the point of defeat.

The girl blushed a heavy scarlet as she nodded. She slowly used her hands to sign out something completely unexpected from Argyle.

"I understand."

She talked little about her past towards him, and nothing about what had occurred at her old combat school. She did not let him on about how she had a past of aggression. However they both did realize this needed to change, she would never go far if she continued with rage filled combat, and aggressive tactics.

Especially because she had not been too friendly with team Carnation. She had tried to listen to the other two members so little that Argyle could count it on one hand. So not a good record.

But she was committed, she came to this school to use her combat skills for the greater good, and learn how to slowly gain some restraint to all of her skills. She would, she would have to.

Argyle smiled softly as he placed a tentative hand on her shoulder and nodded before he slowly leaned back again, taking a moment to crack his knuckles as he saw her blush slowly dissipate, a look of concentration and contemplation on her mind.

"Now...what do you say we get some food? You look famished."

LATER

Their first assignment was given to them. They'd have a few days prepare but it was apparently going to be a bit of a doozy. Argyle was grinning inwardly as he listened to all the details, the girl seemed rather worried as she listened to it.

Carlin's Ridge was an infamous landmark in Mistral. It was near the northern side, where a thick and heavy fog would overtake the landscape. It would be certainly hard to scout out grimm through the fog, or see their fellow teammates. There were high amounts of grim activities, and a senior huntsman had gone missing in the area. They wouldn't be the only team there, a few second years, but there were there to assist and support them in any way possible.

The notoriety came from what it was, a plateau on a very high plane, that ended with a steep cliff face. So steep that it was impossible to see the bottom from the top, and it was unlikely there was much down there for anyone wishing to go down other than broken bones and a few stalactites. Or stalagmites. She couldn't remember.

It was also infamous for being quite muddy, because of the high humidity, so the ground would be rather treacherous. They would have to exercise complete and utter caution, and make every step and every swing count. That and there were rumours of a few more...deadly grimm varieties. But it was said to be an easy job for the prospective students.

Argyle nudged the girl encouragingly.

"It'll be fine, don't worry about it."


End file.
